The Press., 1887-10-20
something might have sprung up to

f something might have sprung up to me ill Paris.' .. The young Woman's heart was over flowing with happiness in being again with her husband, who loved her so ten derly, while at the same time it was o2- pressed with feelings of shame and re- morse. -..~. .-r.- -.. ...
 All of a sudden she gave a start; the clock was striking 8; the pose1nan would soon arrive with newspapers and lctters and among them would be that cursed letter of hers. "
 She would have been glad to find some excuse to send her husband off, but ideas fitted so rapidly through her mind that she could grasp no single one. With her eyes fixed on the clock, she could only re- peat to herself: 1.-The postman is coming with my letter!''
 1T am hungry!' said MT. Vivien. "Sup- pose we go down to breakfast. I have been travelling since midnight.'
 And both went down together.
 As luck would have it, the postman was behind time that morning. To Alice, the voice of her husband sounded as it would have done in a distant dream, as she pictured to herself the TOW that was going to take place.
 She looked at him eating so heartily, his eyes beaming with tenderness and confidence, and she thought how soon all that quiet happiness would vanish, and all through her fault.
 At last she heard the postman's foot step, and soon after, the servant laid the mail on the table,
 MT. Vivien looked mechanically at the envelopes; there were three letters.
 Alice, overcome with terror, felt the blood coursing about her temples and buZZing through her ears as she closed her eyes, almost ready to faint away.
 "Who writes to you in this place?" asked her husband, handing her a small, scented envelope addressed in a strange handwriting.
 ''I don't know" stammered she.
 ''LoOk and see."
 But Alice held her letter without dar- ing to open it.
 FsWell, why don't you read that letter?' insisted MT. Vivien.
 Then, with movement of despair she abruptly handed him the letter, saying:
 ''Read it yourself!'' and she awaited expecting to see everything fall to pieces about her.
 She heard the noise of tearing paper, and then, after a few seconds of mortal agony, her husband said:
 1.-The letter is signed Roger de Beau mont He is secretary of a benevolent committee, and requests your aid ill rais- ing funds for the orphans"
 A few days later MT. Vivien took Alice back to Paris. The young woman had not seen anything of Roger, and she was terribly worried by the thought that her letter had remained in the young man's possession
 The remembrance of that letter became the torture of her life.
 At times she would have a crazy notion of fbrOJuiJ,Cr borCo1f of hn1, h11c1o nf1rc and acknowledging her moment of folly, but she was terrified at the thought thaU it might destroy their quiet happiness. Another fear also oppressed her and chOked down the ayOwal that her over burdened heart wished to make.
 'tWnl my husband really believe that man obtained only these few lines of love from me?''
 She would occasionally see Roger at the play, at the race or on the promenade; in looking at her he would always smile in such 8 mocking way that she would tremble from shame and anguish
 Ten years went by in this way. At last, they met by chance enc evening at a grand ball. Roger came forward to engage Alice for dance. It was only by super human effort that she did not faint but on re1iecting that she would perhaps never again have an opportunity of speaking to the man who held Ter honor, nay cven her life, in his hands, ssle accepted his invita- tion.
 ''Sir," said she in low voice, ''for heavens sake have pity on me this time Give me back my peace of mind. During the past ten years Of my life I have beeE tortured almost to death. For pity's sake, return the letter which I so foolishly wrote to you"
 Roger burst out in loud, careless laugh, while the woman stood panting with impatience and anger.
 At last he answered frankly, his voice still seeming full of fun:
 ''Why, do you think that I have been keeping all the love letters that received during my life? On my honor, I swear it, lighted my cigar with yours the day you left the seaside, when saw that all hope was lost '-Translated from the French of Morand for The Times Demo- crat.
 Advice tO SHimmorS.